Codename:Sue
by zrose
Summary: You know her. Look down, she's probably on this page. Well, as much as she might want that, it's just a job. But how far would she be willing to go to make it a reality?
1. Xalboa

Suddenly, a bright point of intense light flashed straight at her face.

"Now, what is your name?" His voice was soft, but far from gentle. She tried not to squint, she was stronger than that.

"Xalboa Saeth."

Before, she was nothing. A blank face, a waste of ink and paper, a victim. She trained, she evolved, she had more power than she could ever have imagined.

"Impressive." He flipped through the files. "Could do better though."

He grabbed a gun, the make wasn't important. It was shiny, and he tilted it sideways. He fired three shots instantly, satisfied to hear the pings as they deflected off her diamond encrusted katana. He smiled roguishly, before pulling down a lever which wasn't there ten seconds ago to reveal a trapdoor underneath her feet.

Luckily, she saw the door, and managed to land on her feet. She stood, swords in hand, letting her purplish-navy hair billow through the still air.

She paused. She expected a few Black Lanterns, maybe that squid abomination from Watchmen, but this…was horrible. They crawled about in their withered husks of bodies, once skin-tight neon tube tops and mini skits reduced to last season rags. Their eyes were sunken in, their skin badly moisturized, and their hair dry and brittle. They were neglected, and their lack of attention was evident in their feral nature.

She tried to pity them, these…poor things were once in her position, though of course they were inferior since they didn't last long enough, but they were once worthy.

She didn't have long to reflect before they attacked.


	2. Lioslaith

(Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight, Batman the Animated Series, or Twilight. Or fanfiction.)

The first thing she saw as she climbed out of the pit was his shoes. They were black, and probably were supposed to be leather, or would be if they were real. Her eyes drifted upwards to his grey suit, and then to the clipboard in his hands. Until now, she hadn't noticed it was red.

"You successfully dispatched all of your targets. Although your consistency was almost nonexistent, the fighting style completely ludicrous, and you have almost no concept of realism or anything remotely logical, I must admit, the stylistic and visceral choreography was breathtaking. You've got style kid, and that's the most important part of being a Sue. Congratulations, you've made it to Mary status Miss…what is it this time?"

"Dael. It's Lioslaith Dael."

"Of course it is. I'll just let you write the certificate then." He looked down into the abyss of forgotten Sues. "Shame these were never updated, they had promise. Oh well, better to take them off hiatus then to add dead weight, right?" He smiled cheerfully, and whistled as he flipped through his magnificent manilla envelope once more. Once he found the sheet he was looking for, he handed it to her.

"You've come a long way, not many make it through a complete multi-chapter story, let alone one over 20 chapters. Now, here's your first assaignment. If it seems harsh that we are making you go against Number 1, then you'd better leave. She's one of the last remaining vestiges of the old ways. Dark, but yet still bubbly and gloriously insane. And she's passed the threshold that every female OC dreams of, becoming part of the cannon. But, she doesn't fit in our world, and her prescence only hinders the Sue's future plans for future conquest. Defeat her, and you become the Ultimate Sue."

"I thought that honor went to Bella Swan."

He glowered. "Granted, you could learn a thing or two about your craft from her, but remember, you are never allowed to disrespect the Published. You will never be in their status." With that, he walked back into the shadows. A fitting way to end a last meeting.

Knowing that she could not do anything until she opened the file, she carelessly flipped it open. As soon as she read her target, she screamed.

No. She couldn't face HER. She would devour her whole, utterly destroy her. To Sues, she was their worst nightmare. Tentatively, she picked the sheet up from the floor to make sure she read it correctly.

Sure enough, with her blue eyes blazing, and possibly a large mallet hidden behind her hands, giving off a sly smile, there she was. Harley Quinn.


	3. Tansy

She stepped out of the cab, sliding her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. The skyscraper, a lonely Deco relic on a street of glass tombs, it was a painful reminder of what the city used to be. After breaking a few fingers, and patrolling a few bars, she found it. This was the place in all its sleek metallic beauty.

She threw the sunglasses onto the sidewalk. Seeing as it was almost midnight, she really didn't have much of a need for them after her glamour entrance. She pushed past the pedestrians and the homeless and into the revolving door. Now that she was at Mary status, she would never have to worry about normal things like security systems. Her heels made sharp tapping sounds on the museum's linoleum floor as she scanned the rotunda.

She walked over to the empty information desk, and picked up a map. According to the ring of temporary goons the Joker hires every now and then, Harley was going to be at the Gotham Museum of Fine Arts for a major heist, a sixteenth-century diamond-encrusted mask from the ball Henry VIII met Anne Boleyn. She smirked. She never would have guessed Harley had a thing for the historical, or the twistedly romantic.

Third floor. Taking the grappling gun out of her boots, she watched the single, fluid motion as it wedge into the ceiling of the rotunda. She released her hand from the trigger and was pulled upwards. Once she was parallel to the balcony, she swung herself onto it, in the most physics-defying, sueish manner, making sure to do a backflip in the process.

She passed through the winding hallways, trying not to get lost in the bizarre exhibits and morbid artwork. Backtracking her steps, she repeatedly lost herself in the Goya exhibit, and wondering how she could be so scared of ink and paper.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you the one who's supposed to be finding me?"

Her heart probably stopped at this point. Breathing heavily, she turned around, to find Harley Quinn, in all her glory, standing in front of her, mask in hand.

Harley made a disapproving sound as she walked around examining her.

"What hole did they drag you up from? You look worse than the other ones!" Harley laughed. "Did they really think that you'd be able to take me out?" her eyes glimmered, "That's rich. Well, I hope you have a better name than the other floozy. phft, Amethyst Cupcake." Harley noticed the girl pause, and leered. "Well, do ya?"

"It's Tansy Bryte," she mumbled.

Harley laughed so loudly it hurt her ears. "Let me guess, you're Rainbow Brite's long lost sister, or wait, probably her daughter by now, right?"

"My readers said my other name was too dark, too unrealistic. I wanted…"

"Sweetie, I don't care what was going through your vapid writer's head at the time. It doesn't matter. Names don't matter. Heck, My legal name is Harleen. Now, if you'll just stay still…"

She jumped away in time to miss a blow from the mallet. She ran, trying to escape the tiny bombs that for some reason didn't involve a clown gimmick.

"Since I'm only dealing with you, I thought I'd save the good stuff for later." Figures.

She hid behind a column, gasping for breath. This was it, if she blew her one shot, if she died, she wasn't coming back. No one missed Sues. Thinking about her options, she knew what she had to do. It would be risky, but if she succeeded, the payouts would be ultimately perfect.

She ran headfirst towards Harley, running on air and stepping on bombs like stones on a river. She bumped Bud and Lou's heads together, somehow knocking them out. She knew she had the advantage in breakneck speed action, when the readers would not notice obvious plot points, and unlike cannon characters who had to mostly follow the laws of reality, she had free reign.

Harley scowled as she standed a few inches away. "You cheated."

Now it was her turn to grin. Her gun was loaded, and she placed it directly on Harley's forehead. As she looked into Harley's strangely confident eyes, she felt disappointment. This was too easy.

"Killing me won't get you anywhere."

She faltered. "I don't know what you mean."

"I can see it in your eyes. Rather than be happy with what you have- a cushy job most people would love by the way- you want the impossible. I understand. I mean, who wouldn't want to be me?" At this point, she hated Harley. "But remember, killing me won't make your chances of going cannon any more likely, or thin out the competition. They'll just come up with someone else."

Harley kneed her in the stomach, causing her to double over in pain. Picking up the gun, Harley examined it, and put it back into the bag "Nice stuff you got there, kid."

As she tried not to cry, Harley walked away. She tried to crawling over to the stairs, until she heard footsteps.

"By the way," she felt sharp, repeated kicks to her torso. "Joker's mine."

(A/N: I do not own Batman, Rainbow Brite, or The Tudors –guess the reference if you see it, because this is Fantasy Sueland, its cannon over there.)


	4. Nyssa

"Nyssa, Darling, are you almost done? We're going to be late to my own fundraiser!"

"I'll be out in a minute, Bruce," she replied cheerfully. After splashing her face with water, she locked the door and exhaled.

Remember, ABCs.

Always.

Be.

Cheerful.

She ripped off some paper towels from the dispenser and wiped off the black smudges on her face. She was going to have to retouch that eyeliner. After failing her first mission, she was back to her Stories again until further notice. It had been a month in real time, and she had heard nothing.

She examined the tight, orange designer dress that Bruce gave her, and how horrible it looked with the giant canary diamond engagement ring and matching necklace. She had to admit, she cleaned up pretty good.

"Ignore the green marks. If I have to wear this dress, writer," she growled, "than I should at least be able to control what I say. Who says that they clean up well anyway?"

Her hands gripped the sink, making her incredibly visable veins bulge. Tears streamed down, and she tried to blink them away.

"No, I don't want to look! Couldn't you do my makeup for me, just this once?" Hearing no response, she sighed.

There were bags under her bloodshot eyes, and her cheeks were already beginning to sink in. To her horror, the wrinkles on her forehead had deepened, and she could spot crowsfeet.

"No!" she cried, smashing her fist into the mirror. Luckily, she wasn't to the point of bleeding yet. That was a small comfort.

"Honey, are you alright in there?"

"Absolutely marvellous, dear," she chirruped, "Just a minute!"

She needed more hits, fast. Unless the traffic increased for her fics, she was only going to get weaker (and worse, uglier). Searching through the medicine cabinet, she found some toner and CYMK pills. She shoved in more than the recommended dosage and gargled the toner. Hopefully, that would do for now.

"You look beautiful, as always" grinned Bruce, "Since we're already a little late, why don't we have a little fun of our own before heading out?"

"No Bruce," She replied, tonelessly. "We're already 1 hour, 23 minutes and 16 seconds late. We need to go."

As they rode silently in the darkness of the limo, Bruce spoke up, "You know, Nyssa, I'm glad you opened my eyes. I really wasn't doing enough good for the people as Batman, and I am so grateful for you contributions towards the Wayne Foundation, especially since all of it was your idea."

"Oh, it was nothing. What you do every night…"

"Except for this one of course."

She ignored him, and continued reciting her lines, "Sacrificing yourself for the good of the people, is greater than anything I could imagine."

"Yes, but it was with your help that the people were convinced that I was good again."

"Well, Batman can't do everything by himself, now can he?" she replied coldly. Bruce looked at her briefly, before returning his gaze to the opposite window he had been staring at throughout the journey.

The fundraiser, which probably involved orphans or something, was boring. It was almost an exact replica of the fundraiser from the previous movie. Some villain was eventually going to storm in and kidnap/attempt to kill her, that was the point of the fundraiser, but until then it was just dull.

She should be schmoozing, or doing something to look like the do-gooder activist she was playing, toilet paper heiress Nyssa Argoel, but all she really wanted to do was loiter in the shadowy corner by the punchbowl.

The lights were dim, the jazz was sweating. With a sigh, she brought the glass towards her lips and drank.

"Nice party, thought there'd be more of a turnout though." She spluttered.

"That might cost you some perfect points, Guano Girl."

"You weren't on the guest list, Two-Face."

"The coin said I could come. Besides, we came here for more sentimental reasons, seeing as the last time Harvey was here, he was locked in a closet for hours."

She glanced around the room nervously, "What are you here for? This isn't your story."

"That should be the least of your concerns." He smirked, "Using the toner already?"

"Shut up."

He laughed. "Do you know what I could do to you? That is, if you were worth my time. You should be grateful, I was going to warn you, but if the all powerful Mary Sue doesn't need my help…"

"What is it?" She grabbed onto his sleeve, pleading for him to stay.

"Don't touch me," he pushed her away. "I'm allergic to your kind."

"What's happening? Do you know what the council's saying?"

"No, but they've got a Mary scouting for you. And from what I can tell, she looks new."

She dropped her glass.

"Drama Queen," he mumbled.

"Why…why are you helping me?" The only thing he and Poison Ivy, and all of the Rogues fully agreed upon was their immense dislike for the Sues.

"As much as I hate you parasites, Harvey has a soft spot for you, seeing as you were the first, and the least annoying out of the idiots we've dealt with. We've decided to give you something we never got, a choice."

"Actually, I've never chosen anything. People always tell me what to do."

"Pipe down." He pulled out his scratched, two-headed silver dollar. "If you win, you get to decide your own future for the first time in your life…"

"I can't go rogue, that's impossible! I'll be dead for sure."

"Or I could kill you myself."

"Heads," she replied quickly. He tossed the coin high into the air, and caught it, turning it over to reveal Lady Liberty's shining face.


	5. Mauve Prose

She moved the strand of onyx hair away from her face and took a sip of her coffee.

Three months. Three months on the run and she was still talking like a bad Frank Miller knock-off (which, essentially, she was. She stopped trying to fool herself back in week two.)

The wig was itchy, but it was necessary. Normally she would have to describe the long, black wig (a sad attempt to copy some actress without infringing copyright), or whatever incongruous getup she would be wearing. Not anymore. She grinned. She bought clothes. That she owned. With real money. And, she actually had a need for the useful disguise for once. Ever since she left the Mary Sue Collective, she lost all of her shape-shifting powers, even the animal ones. Luckily, she still had some of the starter reality warping stuff they give the newbies: plot-changing whistles, character confusion smoke bombs, a time-turner, nothing special.

Now that she thought about it, she wondered how much of their equipment was nicked from the old T.V. show, most of it was as brightly colored as cheap, plastic easter eggs.

Quietly, she paid her tab and headed back to her apartment.

The tiny, dirty cement sidewalks smelled like sewage and the hanging clothes from the fire escape seemed both very much alive and dead. Silently, she tightly grabbed her plot-changing whistle, but what good would that do in the Narrows? (The real Narrows, of course, not the cleaned, white-washed version that the Sues occaisionally used for hideouts for dramatic purposes.

"Going somewhere?" She knew that voice.

She turned, trying not to panic, "Amaranth?"

The Other, with a tight-fitting neon puce jacket and bloomers, giggled. "Oh, that was my name ages ago, dearie. Don't ask me what it is this time though. Heaven knows if I have any idea!"

"Oh. Ok then." She turned around and started walking away. Hopefully she won't notice, hopefully she won't notice.

BAM! Was that a nosebleed? That really hurt.

"Never, I repeat, NEVER ignore me when I'm trying to kill you. Didn't they teach you any manners at the Collective?"

"Sadly, no. I learned how to deprogram a submarine with a paperclip instead."

The fought. They kicked, punched, screamed, pulled each other's hair. They'd even tried the reverse psychology method, but all that led to was a pair of poorly painted manicures in mauve.

They stood, panting.

"Not bad for an old-timer," wheezed Not-Amaranth.

"Could say the same for you."

"You know, you're not like those dead-weight Hiatus girls. I'm sure if I talk to the Council, we could clear up this misunderstanding and get your job back."

She sighed, "Wouldn't make much of a difference, would it?"

"Of course it would! You wouldn't be dead!" 

"But, we aren't really living; we're just text."

"Nice semicolon. Usually I think they look pretensious, but that really goes well with your ear…"

"Let me finish. I mean, don't you want to feel something because you wanted to? To have a normal day and be happy with it? Wouldn't it be nice to actually have names we cared about instead of whatever's been tapped on this week?"

"No one likes a Preachy-Sue, you know."

"I'm serious! I want a life, not this game."

"Guess you shouldn't get anywhere near the Joker for a while then, huh?"

Pause.

"You know," said Not-Amaranth, "We're doing something important here. We're helping people make their dreams come true…"

"In the most selfish way possible."

"Aren't you being selfish for just opting out? None of us really wanted this, I wanted to be in the Bolshoi, but you don't see me complaining!"

"You've never had ballet before." She replied moodily.

"Yeah, but that was a pretty good scene until you ruined it. Do you want to do another take?"

She sighed. "I really do mean it. I want out."

"There is no out."

"Even for a Mary?"

"Especially for a Mary, it's about as dead end a road to reality as possible. Great dental benefits though."

She screamed, falling down and pounding her fists on the floor

"Did I mention the reserved parking?"

She sobbing now, her hair covering her like a fountain of ink.

"Need to call pest control about the Purple Prose problem again, they've been popping up near the fridge a lot lately, taking all the cheese puffs." Not-Amaranth passively stared at the crying woman for a few moments, but became bored as soon as it looked like She wasn't going to do much else.

"Well, be better get going." Not-Amaranth grabbed Her by the arm and dragged her into the trunk of a van, which had somehow been there the whole time. At least, She supposed it had been.

"To where?"

"The council's voted to give you a metabotomy."

With a loud slam, Her world went black.

All she could hear was the rattling sound of the clichés surrounding her.


	6. Purity

"Welcome to Arkham," smiled the young man in glasses and the grey flannel suit. He walked along the row of people, mostly women, and read their descriptions off of a clipboard.

"Hm…If any of you happen to be Mary-Sue, please step forward."

Five of the women: all tall, beautiful and buxom, blithely stepped forward.

The man flipped through his clipboard again. "Repeat offenders too. Cody!"

A woman in a blue powersuit, ranging from age of 17 to 34, stepped from the shadows.

"Nice entrance." said the man as he was checking off boxes with his pencil, not looking up.

She grinned, "I try."

"Maybe a bit too hard." She scowled. Without hesitation, she pulled a gun from out of nowhere and made a motion of shooting the Mary-Sues.

"We have no patience for you. This is a rehabilitation center, not a hotel. If you do not want to change, there is nothing we can do for you."

The others were wide-eyed, speechless. Slowly, a girl with smeared red lipstick and running mascara raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss…" he checked his clipboard. "Yuddel?"

"It's Purity," she whimpered.

"Well, what is it?" snapped the woman.

"Wh…what are you g…g…going to do to us? Are you going to kill us too?"

"Who is she?" the woman, Coda, asked.

"A Joker-Sue," whispered the man, Cap.

"Aren't they all these days?"

"She's the assistant DA, a replacement for Rachael because the author didn't like her."

"Awfully young though, isn't she?"

"At fourteen, she's pretty average."

Coda turned to her captive audience. "Of course not," she cooed. "At the OC ward, it's our job to help you on your journey to becoming fully functional, realistic characterizations. Granted, it's going to be a tough ride, but you all will become better people because of that." She smiled her big false smile. Her teeth were as white as paper.

"Where's the Joker?"

There was a buzz amongst the others, which lead to several squeals.

Cap took the pistol from her hand, and shot it at the ceiling.

"This is why we don't put them with you. Yes, they're here, but all of you are staying far away from them."

"That's a lie." She (Our PROTAGONIS™) replied, fiddling with an idle strand of hair. Her purple roots were beginning to show, but Coda refused to let any of the Sues near household chemicals since the latest incident involving a Scarecrow groupie was probably still running through the air-vents, slowly deflating their alveoli.

"Excuse me?" Cap asked threateningly.

"This can't be Arkham. We'd be able to escape, but here…this is where you put us when you don't know what to do with us." Her voice was toneless and hollow.

"I don't like the look of this one," whispered Coda.

"We gave her a metabotomy months ago, but unlike the other patients, it isn't sticking. She still knows." grumbled Cap.

"Yes, I know. I know I'm not real and I refuse to be stuck in this facsimile of a life."

"Um, Crazy much?" giggled one of the unnamed Sues.

"I like her, I think she's brave, standing up to them." whispered Purity.

As the guards grabbed Her for another five weeks in solitary (or was it months? She had lost track of time.) She thought to herself – "I'm not real, I can't die… this will go on for eternity…"

In one swift motion, she kicked one of the guards in the shin, and uppercut the other on the chin. Without thinking, she made a run for it.

"No one has escaped before. How am I going to get out?" She looked at the walls around her. There were no doors, windows, or air-vents. Not even cracks in the cement. There was no way out. Unless…

A wall of text would do. With any luck, it will confuse sesecurity enough that they'll keep looking for Her in the maze of letters. She looked at them shuffling through the vowels and knew Her plan was a success Now she just had to find a door. Its over by the third staircase-the hidden one behind the trick wall. She jumped out of her skin, turning around, she could see Purity was following her. Get back," she shouted. You'll get us caught! Not if we leave out quotation marks. But if they see a new paragraph, we're

They saw red lines trailing the floor causing the klaxons to scream. "Sorry," whimpered Purity, "I tripped."

"We're what?" She asked nervously.

"Dead." They could hear the guards pulling each other out of the wall and shoving stray words out of the way.

Without thinking, Purity opened a nearby door, stopping mid-run only to see that it lead to a void of open sky.

"Do not move, there is no escape!" shouted the overhead speaker as the sirens blared.

"Hold onto me," She said. "If we use a jump-cut, maybe we could get out of here."

"But that's an editing trick! You don't seriously think…"

"Watch this. Cut to two hours from now: we've escaped the facility in our car and we're on our way to Gotham!"

"Nothing's happening!" The guards were moving closer, and they had clubs.

"Wait for it…" Just as one of them swung a club, there was a slight pop as they vanished.

"What will we do in Gotham?" Purity asked, fiddling the map.

"Find a way to fight back," She muttered, "Find a way to take down the Sues."


End file.
